A Wilde Christmas Dream
by The Grey Coincidence
Summary: Nicholas Wilde has a nightmare in which Nicholas Claws and Finnickeezer Scrooge try and fail to give presents on Christmas. Wherein Bogo is violent. Mr Big is small. And skunk-butt-rugs are unwittingly given out as gifts.


"I can't believe I failed to deliver presents again." Nicholas Claws fell back onto the old mattress that was the sole occupant of his room. "Again..." He repeated weakly. He was a young fox, currently dressed in a fatsuit, with a massive red coat on top. He tore off his fake beard and tossed it to the side.

"Eh, we should have seen this coming." His accomplice, similarly clad in a bright red coat and fluffy hat, wore a scowl worthy of any goblin. Finnickeezer Scrooge was not often in a good mood. And after that night's disastrous affair he doubted he ever would be.

Exhausted as he was, there was nothing Nicholas could do to prevent the last couple of Christmases from repeating inside his head.

* * *

"I've got it Scrooge! I've got it!"

The smaller fox frowned at him. "A raise?"

"No! Of course not, you know I'm unemployed. No, what I meant was I've got this whole present delivery system figured out."

"Not this again..." His deep voice vibrated with new-found exhaustion.

"Everyone locks their doors on Christmas right?"

"Yes. But I thought we agreed that picking the lock was a useless waste of time and unless you let me use the crowbar-"

"We can't just bust through the windows-"

"Even if it's convenient-"

"So that leaves the chimney!" Nicholas threw his arm into the air in celebration of his newfound genius.

"Except that at the bottom of a chimney there's usually a fire?"

"It's simple. If the chimney's smoking then we know there's a fire on the other side- if not then we're home-free."

Later that night...

"I think I'm stuck." Wheezed the would-be-Santa.

"Don't be ridiculous! You're already up to your shoulders."

"I know. I can't breathe."

"Here, lemme give you a push." The desert fox hopped onto young Nicholas's head. He proceeded to try his very hardest to shove the 'fat' man in. "You know, maybe we should have gone for the window."

Promptly the pair fell down the chimney with a scream and landed in a pile of ashes. Nicholas screamed louder and shot to his feet. Unfortunately he was still inside a chimney and his face became painfully familiar with the interior bricks. Finnickeezer was promptly thrown off and fell upon the ashes. His shrieks of pain echoed all the way up the chimney.

"What are you doing in my house?" A humongous shadow fell upon the pair.

Recovering slightly, the young Claws pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Are you threatening me?" The voice boomed and seemed to shake the entire house.

"It's a-a-a Christmas Present." Nicholas tried to hand it to him. "You wanted a handcuffs. And your daughter wanted a taser. And your son wanted a dart gun. And your other son wanted a new badge-"

"So, you think you can just crawl down my chimney. Bust into my house. And then pretend to be Santa Claus to get out of trouble." The buffalo snorted, and placed a pair of tiny spectacles upon his face- the better to see the pair of significantly smaller mammals. And in his eyes- burglars.

"You know, as Chief of Police I should take you both in for breaking and entering. But in the spirit of Christmas I'm going to let you off with a warning." The pair of foxes gulped audibly as the larger mammal cracked his knuckles.

What followed was a series of whacking sounds, cries of mercy that fell on deaf ears and the sound of breaking glass... and maybe bones.

A moment later both vulpines were hurled through the window and into the snow. "And stay out!"

"Next time Nick... We're using the windows..."

* * *

"Alright Scrooge, I think I've figured it out."

"Excellent! Sign that job application at the bottom and we'll finally get an income!"

"I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about sharing the gift of Christmas."

"Oh bother..."

"I'll just send everyone a letter asking them nicely to leave their doors open so I can come inside and deliver the presents."

"I thought the whole point of the red coat, fat-suit and white beard was to throw folks off our scent?"

"I'm not sending the letters as me! I'll call myself Santa Claus, and I'll even say it's from the Tundratown."

Try as he might Scrooge could find no loophole in his friend's argument. "Fine! But on one condition!"

* * *

"Sweet! They actually got your dumb letter." The bad-tempered Fennec fox dumped the small bundle of presents next to a stool (there was the distinct sound of shattering glass, but this was wholly ignored by the pair). Finnickeezer raced over to a table, where a glass of milk and platter of cookies were waiting patiently for them.

Nicholas chuckled and took one cookie for himself. "And you said this wasn't going to work."

"I've never been happier to be wrong!"

The Young Mr Claws swallowed his biscuit. Instantly he could tell there was something wrong with them.

"Hey, Nick, you look kinda green."

"Did those have gluten in them?"

"...Oh poop..."

* * *

"Nick! I've got it!"

"Excellent! We'll melt down that Jumbo-pop, make five hundred small pawpsickles from it and sell them for two dollars each. We'll be rich! And we'll evade taxes. High five!"

"I wasn't talking about that! I was talking about your Christmas thing. I know a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a small guy called Mr Big."

"And? We don't need a big guy."

* * *

Mr Big was not big. He was surrounded by very big polar bears, but he himself was smaller than Finnick- and that was saying something.

Still it wasn't all bad. His Grandmama made some canerolli. Of course, it was too small for Nick to really enjoy- but hey! The thought was what mattered, right?

"I understand you want to give out presents." Came the shrew's voice. "Of course you must understand this business isn't profitable. Nevertheless, I shall assist you."

"Thank you-"

"In return I don't ask for much. I only want a rug."

"A rug?"

"Yes. A rug."

* * *

"Rugs aren't that expensive!" Nicholas and Finnickeezer cried upon exiting Mr Big's unnecessarily big mansion.

"We'll be rich Nick! We'll be filthy rich!"

"But let's not jump the gun." He raised his paw high into the air. "First stop, Pawmart!"

* * *

The sole employee of the sole open Pawmart was an extremely hairy skunk wearing rather loose pants. "We're sold out." He informed them. His voice was utterly devoid of any and all emotion.

"No! Nonononono! This can't be!" Nicholas Claws promptly searched the entire store for any semblance of a rug- to no avail.

At last he fell down besides Finnickeezer.

"We're doomed."

The skunk raised a paw. "If you need a rug... I could supply one."

Nicholas and Finnickeezer shared a quick look.

* * *

A day later, on Christmas Eve, Nicholas collected a package from the skunk- who's fur seemed slightly shorter now, and who's pants were tightened slightly more than usual. But the fox bid him no mind, thanked him. Payed him two dollars, and hopped into his and Finnickeezer's sleigh.

Everything went smoothly. Mr Big's bears were sent out to shoot presents into the homes. The shrew himself was personally opening his gift-wrapped rug.

Nick's tail was wagging in anticipation.

Then a cloud of foul, green air burst from the wrapping and made the tiny crimelord collapse into a coughing heap.

"Mr Big! Mr Big are you okay?"

"Poison! They've poisoned me." He gasped inbetween fits of coughing.

And then Nick caught sight of the rug- and the lack of fur and tightened pants made so much sense... A skunk rug... A skunk butt-rug. A butt-skunk rug?

He was so lost in thought that his tongue turned to lead upon hearing the shrew's proclamation.

"Ice them!"

The next thing he knew he was flying out the window- towards an icy lake. Finnickeezer soon followed.

Recovering, Mr Big shoved the putrid skunk-rug as far from himself as possible. "We need to make a trap door for icing people... it would be far more effective..."

* * *

The snow continued to fall upon the pair as they limped away in resignation. As usual the brilliant Christmas plan hadn't worked out very well. Still there was one silver lining to all of this.

"At least there's one Christmas present I won't have trouble giving, eh Scrooge?"

"Forget it! We tried the sleigh, we extended Christmas by twelve days, we made a hitlist, mailing system, we tried the chimney, the windows, lock-picking- Santa, face it, you can't give presents to anybody!"

Anybody... Anybody... Anybody... The words seemed to echo throughout the cold night.

Nicholas sighed. "Maybe you're right." He pulled out the last present, a baseball bat three times the height of his companion. He shoved it towards the stunned fox, who's long ears had begun to droop. "But you're not just anybody."

Finnickeezer snatched the gift as hatefully as he could. "Why do you always have to be so sentimental Nick!? What am I meant to say now!? Ho-ho-ho's a stupid catchphrase and you know it!"

Nicholas shrugged. "Well... Let's go eat some gluten-free biscuits."

"Finally you say something worth saying!"

* * *

The morning of Chrismas Day dawned over Zootopia with a myriad of colours. Judy was slightly too preoccupied to observe the sunset though.

"Nick, it was just a dream."

"But it didn't _feel_ like one!" The red fox was rocking to and fro on a little stool, clutching his knees. "I tried to give Bogo paw-cuffs for Christmas. And Finnick shoved me down a chimney. And I gave Mr Big a skunk-butt rug... for free."

Judy facepalmed. It was too early on in the morning to have to deal with this. "You know what, I'm just going to go watch TV."

"And gluten- I was allergic to gluten!"

* * *

 _Footnote: Short? A bit silly? Eh, I felt like doing something Christmass-ey and well... this was born. Originally, this was going to be a story in the vein of Hercules about a goblin called Scrooge and good old St Nick. I started writing it that way but lost interest. Then I spent... so much time reading Zootopia fics (and I *still* haven't caught up) and thus the First Days of Christmas became a Zootopia fic. The only other one I ever did was... well I don't actually remember it so yeah. Mind you the other one might still come up (maybe tomorrow, maybe next Christmas) I mean I still haven't gone into... The naughty list...  
_

 _Anywhoooo..._

 _Hope you liked... er... this. Got nothing to do with Jesus's B-day but neither do pine trees and socks so you'll forgive me.  
_

 _Merry Christmas guys. And gals. Men and women? Boys and girls? Males and females?_

 _*Goes to overthink*._


End file.
